


Stormbringer

by crimsonepitaph



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: (sort of) Apocalypse, M/M, Mild Language, Superpowers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:58:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonepitaph/pseuds/crimsonepitaph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wakes up in a world of gray and red, completely alone, knowing nothing - not even his own name...until the voice in his head says, <i>Please tell me you remember who I am.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note #1: Title from the Deep Purple song, "Stormbringer".
> 
> Author's note #2: This is a gift for **madebyme_x** for the **spn_j2_xmas** fic exchange, a variation on the following prompt: _The planet is quiet. Empty. But sometimes he can see the moons and suns burning brightly in the sky. And on those days it doesn't feel so lonely here, especially if he sees him._ There were so many great prompts and awesome likes, I had a hard time choosing. Ultimately ended up with this J2 AU, which I hope you enjoy. Have a wonderful Christmas!
> 
> Author's note #3: The biggest thank you to the amazing **borgmama1of5** \- for the beta, for all the help and advice, and for her endless patience in sifting through all my incoeherent ramblings and actually making them into something readable. And for the summary. (Always, for the summary.) I'd be kind of lost without her :)

  
**PART ONE**

 

Darkness.

Liquid, soft, caressing his skin, whispering across his temples, a slow, tantalizing touch. He’s drowning. A slow descent, a lazy flutter with each breath, cold wrapping around him as the nothing wrinkles and cracks, as light lets itself in, bright and unremorseful.

His eyes open slowly – at first, just to assure himself he hadn’t forgotten how, tentative, apprehensive of the world on the other side of his eyelids. A bleary picture – shades of red, diluted, streaks of gray, hard granite softened by the shadows still in his eyes.

He blinks.

One, two, three times – until there’s edges, there’s shapes. It’s a useless gesture. He’s staring at a canvas. Huge, consuming, endless. Painted in blood over hard metal, crisp and sharp.

He doesn’t understand. Can’t – not now, when he’s still remembering he exists, remembering the most inherent motions, weak awareness that’s frustratingly passive, edging furtively outward, tenuous strands of consciousness that slip from his grasp again and again.

He moves.

Basic instinct that shouldn’t take as much concentration as it does. He moves, innate need to bypass the apathy, to defy the stillness in the sky. He raises his head, and then, steady and gentle, he props himself awkwardly on his elbows. A few breaths, a few seconds where feeling spreads through his body, where his mind struggles to tether itself to a physical part.

He sits up, leans on a hand, palm spread wide on the hard ground. It’s strange, the change in perspective. Sound. He remembers now. There should be sound. Its absence is unnerving. But there’s no vibration, not any steady rhythm of life.

The emptiness within dissipates slowly with each new thought, each deliberate motion he does, building contrast to the outside – horizon line that blends with a coppery stretch of land, a mirror image of the above. He focuses on the gray closest to him and discerns ash – piles, small ridges in the otherwise even ground. He’s starting to wonder – a step towards himself, an inquiring mind.

The soil is – burnt. That’s the only thing that makes sense right now. From the inside out – cracking carcass from a boiling core, black and fissured in stripes, otherwise red and blotchy, crackling fire frozen in thin, swirling lines, in shades dripping from the tip of an invisible brush. Grotesque, fascinating, morbid work of art.

He stands up.

Brusque, sudden movement that leaves him somewhat dazed until he adjusts. He scans his surroundings for a variance, but there’s only more. Only more of nothing. The ground under his feet shifts, and his toes sink in something soft, fine slivers tickling his feet. He crouches, reaches out with a hand, and watches, curious, as powder trickles between his long fingers. Hazel eyes sparkle at the alluring, captivating simplicity he discovers one silvery, cloudy white particle at a time.

Colors. He knows that. Beyond the notion – he gets it, doesn’t get tangled in the abstract. Not a blind man seeing for the first time. But not memories, either. Just a layer that settles, molds with the newfound cognizance of everything that’s around him.

He takes a few clumsy steps – but limbs that supported a simple gesture protest now. His knees buckle, and he falls, barely catches himself on his hands. His wrist twists a little – and he learns something new – pain. A flash, a twinge that disappears just as fast – but leaves him breathless at the unexpectedness of it. He raises the hand in question, frown lines deepening while he turns his palm towards himself, studying caramel skin with intent. There, on the inside of his wrist are thin lines, crimson, the flesh raised and marred – but not scars. They’re too … perfect. A circle, the same symbol repeated six times, radiating from an unmarked centerpoint – each symbol being two lines that connect at the innermost point and then spread apart, with a crossbar two-thirds of the way down.He brings his left hand up, but the skin there is merely discolored, unblemished.

He traces each line reverently. It hurts – dull, sting of pain spreading through his whole body, a memory just outside of his grasp, an integral part of who he is – but when he reaches for he memory he ends up slamming into an invisible wall.

He understands.

He can’t remember – but now, he knows, he _was._ He is something, _someone_. Not just a frail creation of his own mind.

But what this is, what surrounds him – _this_ he has no clue about. Re-learning himself is slow, gradual, unavoidable progress with each motion, with each thought – but the emptiness that surrounds him – threatens to swallow him – leaves him helpless, desolate – unveiling fragile fragments of himself cruelly, without grace or regard.

He gets back up. He steps, reinforced, resolute – decision carved in the hopeless expanse that stretches under his gaze. Forward – but not really, direction is not a notion that applies – bare feet brushing the ground, blackness crunching with each footfall.

Sound.

 

  
~

 

 

He walks.

He walks until he’s not sure he walked at all – there’s nothing distinguishable, nothing that isn’t silent chaos painted in red, silver and off-white. A muted gold brightens the pool of blood in the sky – sun hiding above the heavy curtain. Weak rays hit uncaring stone, taunting the emptiness with hope that is only illusion. Warmth is scarce, its memory a mockery of touch on bare skin.

A hill appears. Steep, but seemingly smooth on the surface. He picks up his pace, the urgency of a destination, of a finality spurring him on, his long legs carrying him there faster than he thinks, planes of the ground rapidly growing inclined. His thoughts race, his body, still weak, pacing itself, adjusting – but _alive._

Alive. Strange revelation to himself, but it’s the sight of the small change in the landscape – of reality altered in something other than deformed shapes and ruins of a different life – that makes him truly feel. He was a bystander until now. An entity with shape, form, but a thought process modeled oppressively by the outside, limited, mind just soaking up pieces of a puzzle, no links between them, fragments of information catalogued, informed by nothing other than an inexorable need to understand. Now – now he’s bursting at the seams. Confused, raw, vulnerable, sad, hopeful – a swirl of emotion that’s too much for him to keep track of – it’s all coming in a rush. A palette of emotion, and he remembers each one, a second at a time, his mind and body insisting on summoning them up.

He climbs, climbs until he can’t walk upright – fingernails scraping the incline, seeking hold when foot slips on the smooth creases of crimson ice. Patches already splintered cave under his weight, thin, dark glass cracking with a retort that echoes faintly, smudging his skin in dusty black.

He doesn’t give up, just grips tighter, stretches farther, inching closer and closer to the top.

His breath comes faster, each crawling step more difficult than the last, chest heaving with the effort – but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t cease moving till his fingertips brush something soft – an even, velvety surface.

He looks up, surprised.

He reached it – the peak, the point, the unknown – he’s done it. And then – a split-second, a moment, no warning, just – _pain._ Excruciating, every nerve ending, every inch of skin burning, fraying – and he slips, lets go, can’t think beyond _this,_ head splitting open, body feeling like he’s torn apart at the seams. He falls, and it seems endless, just endless pain that tears agonized screams out of him, sounds that scratch uselessly at the thick silence, sudden, muted, deformed, long and sickening.

His body can’t have been made for this, can’t possibly survive. That’s his last thought – he slips into blissful unconsciousness right before he hits the ground.

 

 

~

 

 

He blinks his eyes open. A sudden movement, a moment where he is terrified of waking to the same agony, eyes blown wide. He breathes, slow, controlled, appraising –

_Ow. Motherfucking ow. Fuck, that hurt. It wasn’t like this the first time. Right? It wasn’t. You can’t be stupid enough to do this twice._

This time he expects the colors of the sky. What he doesn’t expect is the voice inside his head. Low, raspy, deep - even through an undignified string of curses – which, had he known he possessed the knowledge of, he would have used himself. Out loud.

Breathy, in between pained gasps. _Dude. Not you. Me. I._

Of course not. It’s just a voice. Inside his head. Talking. Right. Completely normal. He just wishes he’d picked a better moment to go crazy – say, _after_ he reached the top.

 _Well, excuse me._ That doesn’t sound sincere. _I was a bit preoccupied. Also, you were dead._

He thinks that over – it doesn’t make sense as much as it does.

A tentative, _Jared?_ stops his train of thought.

 _That_ he doesn’t know what to make of.

Then, a few beats later, choked, the voice cracks, _You’re alive._

Which, yes, he is, but if this is himself, he already knew that.

_Jared?_

This time, confused, alert – it’s terrifying how much he can understand from one word. His thoughts aren’t supposed to have inflexions, aren’t supposed to be … loud. He doesn’t know what his own voice sounds like. Or, at least, he doesn’t remember. But if he doesn’t remember his own, how could he make up one?

_You don’t – no. It can’t –_

A pause. He swears he can imagine a sharp intake of breath.

_Please tell me you remember who I am._

He can’t.

_Jared._

It’s the third time. He feels it; it means something. He just doesn’t know what. So much, so many things into a single word, so much pain, letters strung together with sheer agony – he hurts, just hearing, and it’s impossible, because it’s still him, a part of him that’s trying to tell him –

_I’m not you._

The voice is empty, emotionless. The warmth from before is gone.

_And you know that._

Hard. Desolate. Words, bitten, thrown out.

He reaches out to the depths of his mind. He tries. The voice bears a conviction hard to ignore.

He doesn’t feel different.

It’s a long, long list of things he doesn’t understand.

A long, drawn-out exhale, then, _Fuck._

He wishes the voice didn’t curse as much.

_Shut up, you love my filthy mouth._

An awkward, expectant silence follows – and he feels like he should say something, like he would, under any other circumstance. He should. But what? He’s still grasping at straws, fundamental pieces of himself clawing at the surface, begging to be let out.

_So. Factory settings, huh?_

Maybe. But then again. He doesn’t know enough for that.

It’s strange, the range of emotions he feels right now. Sprawled on the hard ground, staring at the bleak sky. The quiet should drown him. The voice should frighten him.

There’s so many things that shouldn’t conform to this reality. But his mind is blank. His mind is anything he accepts right now.

So he does. It makes him feel less alone than he was.

 

 

~

 

  
He’s started walking again – towards the same hill, same goal in mind, pitiful endgame to a world that seems to have no choices. The voice remains, accompanying his pointless steps.

A long-suffering sigh. _You could ask my name, you know._ A snort. _Still socially inept, of course you are._

He figured there’d be no point in asking; it’s his own mind.

_The point is being considerate._

He knows almost nothing. But what he does know is, names don’t seem important; this is more than that. The voice doesn’t answer that thought.

_Okay. Well. Normally, I’d do this the other way around. But. You’re Jared._

He’d guessed that.

_Smartass. I’m Jensen._

It still doesn’t answer the question of who or what.

_Well. Long story. Short version, we’re kind of the same. Somewhat. In the yin and yang kind of way and all that._

A muttered curse, followed by one out loud. Or well, as loud as it gets in his mind.

_Fuck, this is hard to explain._

Answers that build more questions, answers he doesn’t understand.

 _I know._ Soothing.

Why?

_Because I can’t. What you’re seeking – I can’t be the one to tell you where to find it._

He mulls that over – just his luck, to wind up with the cryptic voice in his head. He reaches the base of the hill again. He starts to climb.

The voice – _Jensen –_ reacts anxiously.

_What the – why are you doing that?  You –_

He – _Jared,_ he’s Jared, he needs to remember that – comes to a sudden stop. Waits for more. But it doesn’t come.

Instead, a quiet, resigned _Nevermind._

He shrugs, goes on.

 

 

~

 

  
It’s an illusion. It’s different, the top, this time. He hauls himself over. Stands up. Watches. Waits. Eyes bright, he faces an unknown he’d wished into existence. There’s just unending, fading strips of _now_ and _nothing_.

There are figures. Shadows. And yet, he thinks, they’re too solid for that. And light – there’s not enough light.

Faces. Melted into smudges of decaying color, blotches on a shriveled canvas, screams painted in large brush strokes, hurried and macabre. Bodies, contorted, slithering across the rotting ground – dripping, losing themselves as they walk slowly, no direction, no purpose, no goal. There’s no end, no start – to them, to what’s around. Paper, muddied with carbonite, crumpled, weightless, eerie – clouds and wind, a still moment of time – frozen in a flutter, a wish.

Jared watches.

There’s nothing. He exists for nothing. _In_ nothing.

It’s not the top of a hill. It’s an edge to a grave he’d crawled out of. A grave, huge, dirty, marked with fire and tar.

He left hope at the bottom of the box.

 

 

~

 

  
Jared sits down.

Memories are just mirrors – mirrors of the world outside, no depth to them, no substance. He isn’t sure; can’t remember if that’s how it’s always been. He’s sure – he has a past. He just can’t figure out if the world does. If it was always _this_ , this rotten imitation of _alive._

 _It wasn’t._ Jensen. Quiet, a whisper that reverberates inside his mind. _It was … beautiful._

The words sound out regret, a longing for another time – and Jared wishes he could know something else. Wishes he wasn’t this blank canvas absorbing the colors of the outside. The only part of him that feels solid, feels real, is Jensen, and he almost lets out a laugh at the sheer impossibility of that.

_Gods, Jared. You can’t think things like that._

Why?

But Jensen doesn’t answer. Jensen stays silent for a long time. Jared just watches the emptiness filled with corroded life – wretched, fragile fragments that stretch before his eyes.

 

 

~

 

  
Jared wonders what happened. Jensen knows the before. Jensen should know how.

 _I do. I can guess._ A pause, a sigh. _But it’s not a story you want to hear right now._

Jared thinks he’s probably right. It’s just too much at once – and if there’s things that fall in place, that slot themselves perfectly in the corners of Jared’s mind, there’s also things he can’t even begin to wrap his head around. He blows out a breath, fingers absently tracing the design on his right arm.

Jared decides, there and then – he can’t go on like he has. He needs a purpose. He needs something to separate himself from the shadows looming in the distance, closing in with each breath.

But what? He doesn’t where to start.

There’s Jensen.

But he’s just a voice in his head.

_I told you. I’m not._

Jared’s not sure he can believe that. It’s easier when Jensen’s just a figment, his mind, struggling to keep up.

_I know._

Gentle tone, and Jared almost lets himself close his eyes.

_But I’m really, really not. There’s so many explanations for that. So many that you wouldn’t understand._

It’s not comforting. He doesn’t know. Can’t figure out what he wants.

If he wants to believe, if he feels betrayed by his own mind.

_You don’t know who you are. What you are._

The voice is right. Jared isn’t sure of anything right now.

_But I think … I think, deep down, you feel it. Something. Something that you can’t explain. That makes sense just as much as it doesn’t right now._

A sigh, but then the voice comes back – stronger, conviction in each sound.

_Jared…look. As much as was lost, the one thing you can’t have lost is yourself – and I was always a part of that._

Quiet.

_You told me that. You told me, so many times._

Then, low rasp softening into a whisper, into what sound like well-worn words on Jensen’s tongue.

_Just like the moons and suns in the sky._

Jared’s sure – there’s meaning in that.

But he doesn’t know.

Nothing is all he has right now.

A dull ache that bleeds into him with each sound.

He lets go.

Jared lets himself believe. It doesn’t really matter.

 Maybe he’s lost, maybe he’s meant to never be found.

Jared is selfish – he binds himself to a thought, to a conviction he’s heard in a voice he doesn’t recognize. He cares only because he should.  That’s all Jared has right now – a need to fill the void inside.

_Okay. That’s okay, Jared. We go from that._

The hurt is stark, clear, melted in each word, and Jared fools himself into thinking it’s a delusion of his own mind. But Jensen doesn’t say anything more. He oscillates, from warmth that bleeds into Jared, to detached, cold, distant – like he can’t really decide on an emotion, like all of this is confusing him as much as it does Jared.

And Jared, somehow, is not surprised when there’s a change in subject, and a not so subtle clearing of a throat.

_So. Now what?_

He has no idea.

Maybe, lay down. Watch the sky. Find Jensen? Play into the illusion, into the hope it creates right now.

_Great. Well, good luck with that._

Jared ignores the dismissive huff of laughter that comes with that. He’ll find Jensen, he decides. He will. Or it’s all just an illusion, and he’ll die trying to find the voice in his head. There’s not much to live for anyways.

_Well, at least that’s familiar. Big fucking martyr that doesn’t care what he leaves behind._

Jared’s taken aback – not by the words, not even the venom in them – but by how much they hurt, how deep they cut.

A few seconds pass, but Jensen doesn’t apologize. And Jared can’t find it in him to blame him – it’s laced with pain, and it’s his probably fault. He gets up. The shadows hide, the silhouettes fade into the background.

He walks.

 

If he believes Jensen’s more than a voice, more than a feeling, he needs to understand.

Who Jensen is. Who Jensen was.

_I thought we were over that._

But not quite. Who Jensen is outside of Jared, what Jared is to him and why, why does Jensen care so much are the questions that Jared had been too afraid to ask.

There’s a long silence, only the sound of Jared’s footsteps.

When it comes, Jensen’s answer feels like a punch to the gut.

_Well. That’s simple. I love you. That’s who I am._

Jared wishes Jensen wouldn’t say things like that. Things that Jared can’t possibly understand the way they are meant to be heard. Things he can’t possibly say back. Words that hurt for the hollowness he feels when he hears them.

_It’s the truth, Jared. Parts of you are missing, and that is the only one I have to give back._

But Jared doesn’t deserve – not when it’s clear – it doesn’t fit with who he understands himself to be right now.

But he doesn’t say much. Doesn’t think. It seems like he heard it all before, a million times.

Jared almost expects the soft, _you have_ that comes.

 

~

 

  
The shadows around him cower, try to hide – morbidly graceful when they sink further, dissolve in the fading light. Jared crosses the uneven ground in long strides, mechanical motion that seems to be his default, an awareness of his surroundings that has strengthened ever since he woke up.

He’s making progress – as the horizon line gains shape, edges – he feels there’s something to be found. Jared briefly wonders if it can be worse than it has been until now. In a way, he enjoys the silence – in the blossoming dark, it’s a feeble attempt at a balance he’d lost.

But the moon brings worries – he’s not naïve enough to believe that his luck is going to hold. Danger is elusive, a stealthy presence he’d ignored until now. He has been fortunate – as clumsy and green as he had first been, there was no way he could have fought, not in any way that would have saved him.

Weapons. He needs some, he decides.

Jensen huffs out an exasperated breath. Great. Now what had he done wrong?

_Nothing. This is just harder than I thought._

Jensen has a talent of stating the obvious.

_Okay, cranky._

Jared withholds a response.

Then Jensen’s voice is soft, indulgent. _What’s the matter?_

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just being the only person on the planet, but otherwise, completely fine.

_That’s a good attitude._

Jared struggles to choose at which to take offense – the sarcasm or the cheerfulness with which the words are said.

Jensen snorts. _Forgot how much of a pissy princess you are when you don’t get to see your stars._

His stars?

Jensen’s voice slides into an unwitting familiarity when he responds.

 _Yup. You’d stay out all night, sometimes, when there was a clear sky. Always had this amazed look in your eyes._ Jensen pauses for a bit. Jared knows what he’s about to say. _Never understood why_ –

He remembers. He does, a lot of things – but not until they’re brought up, not until someone cracks the thin surface to bring them out.

_Huh. Interesting._

Jared supposes it is. The inner workings of his mind fail to impress him at the moment.

 _That’s why the stars. You wouldn’t move. You’d just watch. Said it cleared your mind. Made it quiet again._ Jensen goes on, but this time it’s a bit stuttered, a bit unsure. _Sometimes I stayed with you. Traced the most atrocious things along the sky. Connecting the little stars. And you’d just laugh. You’d just laugh, because –_

Because looking at the stars, he always wondered what Jensen saw.

_You … do you remember that?_

Jared doesn’t. He remembers the feeling, the thought.

_Well. I guess you’re not as hopeless as I thought._

Jared’s startled into a laugh – short, loud, resonating sound that ruffles the silence around.

Asshole.

_Am not._

Jensen isn’t, truly. Just not equipped to deal with serious moments more than a few seconds at a time.

_True that. Serious looks better on you, anyways, you star-gazing ball of fluff._

Evidently, this conversation is on the right track.

_Excuse me. Should I leave you want to angst some more about the apocalypse around here?_

No. This is almost pleasant.

_Almost pleasant. Well, I aim high._

That’s not what Jared meant.

_I know._

A few beats of silence. When it comes, Jensen’s reply is wistful, quietly desperate.

_Wish it could be different, too._

A soft sigh – Jared’s, this time. He’s stopping for the night – chooses a spot that gives him at least a chance. He stretches on the cold ground, pillows his hands under his head. It’s dark.

_I don’t think you need to worry about it. At least for now. The creepy things earlier seemed startled by you, couldn’t get out of your path fast enough._

Somehow, Jared thinks they’re not the only things crawling around.

_My god, you’re just a ray of sunshine. One problem at a time._

Jared can get on board with that. But a sudden thought stops him in his tracks – how does Jensen know all that?

_Honestly, I think all the being dead and stuff fried some of your brain cells._

Jared might be a little slow on the uptake– but still not an answer.

_Okay, okay. So. I kind of see what you see. Hear what you hear. Feel what you feel and all that._

Right. So there’s a nice theme going.

Jensen’s voice cuts in, quieter, softer than usual. _You know, you could cast me out anytime._ Jared doesn’t want to do that. He thinks it’s pleasant, the loneliness split in parts. But Jensen barrels on.

_I mean – I’m not sure you can right now – if you’re strong enough. But you just have to ask. Ask, and I’ll back off._

He would. Jared’s sure of that. Even if it’s obvious it hurt to even say that.

_Doesn’t matter. As long as you’re all right._

And _Jared’s_ the martyr.

_Nothing so dramatic, Mary Sue. Just. When I bound myself it was  to my Jared. And you’re not really him._

Jared ignores the pain the words cause – he wants to, he wants to be Jensens’s Jared. It’d mean an anchor, something of himself to piece back.

_I’m kind of fooling myself, because it’s so easy to fall back … this is all so familiar. Your mind … you loved the silence, the outside. But I’ve always loved loud. All these things I have in my head – that’s my ordered chaos, the noise I can’t live without. And you’ve always been the constant. You always let me in. I always heard you, above anything else. But that’s not fair. It wasn’t when I didn’t pull back right away, after I realized. But I wanted to believe there was something left. So I stayed._

The words falter, fade into the night.

_I stayed, and I shouldn’t have._

“I’m glad you did,” Jared says.

It takes a while till he realizes it’s the first time he’s spoken out loud.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**PART TWO**  
  
  
Hope dissolves, splinters into a reflection of the same crumbling world, same relics of life. There’s a city, and the knowledge that there’d been different times should have brought dreams, promises, faint light at the end of the tunnel. It does not.  
  
The city is even more still than everything Jared has experienced till now.  
  
Building stand tall, but they’re all singed, burnt, – black marks, streaks across their walls – silent testimony to a force that hasn’t spared anything. Roads are dry, cracked – a cruel, intricate web. Jared follows along the lines, sees the thin layer of blood smudged into the ground, old, crusty, savage paintings, thin ropes of crimson that pull him in, slowly, inexorably to a deluded pretense there’s something at the end of the road.  
  
He thought he’d gotten used to the silence, to the heavy curtain that hid the secrets of the end. But this is worse – at least the shadows were fluid, evidence that something still moved. The city is daunting – only the cognizance of an origin, knowing the blood slithering between the cracks belonged to someone.  
  
 _Morbid way of putting it, but okay._  
  
Jensen runs a mocking commentary of Jared’s thoughts. Oddly, it helps.  
  
 _Whatever floats your boat, sunshine._  
  
Jared’s lips curve slightly against his will. It feels wrong to find humor in this bleakness, but he can’t help it. Jensen’s a calming presence in his mind, something that keeps Jared tethered to a semblance of normal – and Jensen gives a short laugh at the thought.  
  
 _Your normal is screwed up, buddy._  
  
Maybe. Probably. Jared figures it hardly matters, the only rules that apply are the ones he makes now.  
  
 _Yeah, you always were a special little snowflake like that._  
  
Jared has no idea what snow has to do with all of this, but he lets it slide when Jensen says something he doesn’t understand. It’s easier, otherwise there would be too many questions, too many fragmented answers Jared can’t piece back.  
  
Mostly it’s mindless chatter that keeps Jared grounded, keeps him from losing himself in the wasteland. Jared has realizedthat Jensen has no clue where Jensen actually is – and he supposes that directions and a red carpet rolled out to the voice in his head are, actually, too much to ask.  
  
Jared has deduced from Jensen’s remarks that Jensen is stuck somewhere, trapped – though Jensen doesn’t actually use that word. Jensen says he’s in a green, bright place – but never mentions getting out. Never says a word about moving forward, going towards an exit.  
  
Most concrete – and absolutely nonsensical –thing he says on the subject is,  _You’ll know where to find me when you understand._  
  
Jared doesn’t press the matter. He continues moving, vows to do everything in his power to get himself – and Jensen – back.  
  
If only he knew what  _back_  was.  
  
  


 

~

 

  
Jared stays outside the city that night.  
  
Next night, same moon, same empty dark sky.  
  
He leans against a building – concrete cold, unhospitable – and Jared wants to laugh. There’s a street lamp. It still works. Weak rays of light filter through the dark, taunting, tired, useless.  
  
He doesn’t sleep. He absently taps an uneven rhythm with his fingers on the wall, stares at the darkness above. He loves the quiet. He loves the simplicity of it, the secrets the unknown hides – he’s just an outsider, a watcher to a much bigger plan.  
  
Jared’s lost in thought, when he sees, out of the corner of his eyes. Movement. Just a flicker, a second, suspended, then the same dark. He focuses his gaze, ignores the warning Jensen’s running in his head.  He watches, hazel eyes fastened on the same spot. Time is nonexistent, but seconds pass, and the stillness doesn’t falter again.  
  
He knows what he saw. But now there’s nothing.  
  
There’s nothing there.  
  
Until there is.  
  
Until something grabs his arm, burning, agonizing touch – and Jared barely bites back a scream, one that echoes in his mind anyway – Jensen feels what he feels. The grip tightens, and a hand – it’s a hand, it’s human – comes around his neck in the seconds it takes to fight back for breath.  
  
And then, a voice, harsh, loud, decidedly outside himself.  
  
“Make a move, and you’re dead.”  
  
Jared’s more startled by _that_  than anything else.  
  
Something inside him twists, escapes – and he finds himself moments later, his knee on the chest of a struggling man, pinning him to the ground.  
  
Jared’s dazed – has to close his eyes against an assault of memories, moves, gestures he had no idea he had knowledge of, countless fights with faceless enemies. There’s always the same background of inky black – and him, covered in blood, him tossed around like a rag doll, him standing victorious. The only constant is the bone-deep rightness of it all – the first jagged piece in the identity he’d lost.  
  
He fights. He is, he can. He opens his eyes, sparkling hazel tinted blue, cold and harsh.  
  
The man glares, glittering amber eyes narrowed, anger shining bright – he’s still fighting Jared, although they both know he has no chance.  
  
But Jared gets up. He takes a few steps back – then offers a hand for the man to get up. Jared’s ready for whatever the man might try. But he’s going to give the stranger a chance – the two of them might be the last people in the world. It’s the right thing to do, if nothing else.  
  
The man is surprised. He eyes Jared’s outstretched hand warily – then, slowly, tentatively, he gets up. He doesn’t accept Jared’s help, but once he stands, the man grips Jared’s hand, tight and appraising. A standstill. He studies Jared – and Jared just lets him, takes his own measure of the man in front of him. He’s shorter than Jared – but his stance exudes power and strength. He’s brave – there’s not an ounce of fear in his gaze – just an unwavering truth of fighting till his last breath.  
  
The man releases Jared’s hand, and it feels strange – learning someone other than himself, just through touch. It’s not much – but it’s an understanding to each other they mean no harm – overriding the first instinct to attack.  
  
The man huffs, and sits down. Eyes still trained on Jared – but it’s a peace offering if Jared ever saw one. So Jared joins him, sits across from him on the hard ground.  
  
“Name’s Chris,” the man says and Jared’s about to voice his own name, when it all slams back into his mind –  
  
 _God fucking damn it, you cannot shut me out like that._  
  
Jensen was right.  
  
Jared holds more control than he thought.  
  
He doesn’t apologize – if shutting down that part of himself meant Jensen didn’t feel, didn’t see all the memories that had come back – he’s glad for it. He’s afraid – he’s afraid because he doesn’t know if all he saw is a good or a bad thing – what it means for who he is.  
  
“Jared,” he rasps out, voice hoarse, mark of the conversations he carries only in his head.  
  
Chris nods, eyes meeting Jared’s, and he smirks, slow and dangerous.  
  
“Now ain’t it nicer like this? Being buddies and all?”  
  
“You are the one who attacked.”  
  
 _And it fucking hurt, asshole._  
  
Yeah, it might have hurt, but the concern in Jensen’s voice wasn’t for himself – it was for Jared. Jared’s not sure what to make of that.  
  
Chris lets out a short laugh. “Can you blame a guy? Ain’t exactly the friendliest of times.” He winks at Jared. “Piss me off, I still might have a little fun.”  
  
 _Seriously, Jared. At least try not to kill yourself for five minutes? Please. It’s all I ask._  
  
Jared works hard to hide the scoff – he isn’t that bad.  
  
Chris, by some miracle – curse – of the universe, chooses that exact moment to voice his thoughts. “Man, it was too easy. You’ve been strollin’ around like it’s just another day at the zoo for days now. Did you even think that there might be things around that want you dead?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Chris raises an eyebrow.  
  
Jared shrugs. “There wasn’t much I could do about it at the time.”  
  
“So you’d just thought you’d take a look around.”  
  
 _See. I’m not the only one that thinks you’re missing a few brain cells._  
  
Jared ignores both of them. “What’s the difference?” He shakes his head. “Hiding, dying a slow death instead of a quick one?”  
  
Chris’s lips tilt slightly. He’s a man cut from the same cloth. “True enough.”  
  
Jared zeroes in on a detail Jensen reminds him of.  
  
“You’ve been watching me.”  
  
 _Creeper,_ Jensen ever so helpfully supplies.  
  
Chris shrugs, completely unrepentant. “You weren’t exactly hiding.”  
  
“Then why didn’t you kill me? Why’d you give me a chance?”  
  
Jensen groans.  _Just say thank you, Jared. Thank you, and move on. Don’t poke the bear with the fire hands._  
  
 _Fire hands?_  As Chris keeps talking, Jared loses the tantalizing thread.  
  
Chris is leaning back, posture slightly more relaxed – but he’s still aware, his guard is still up. And Jared meant it – he’s sure, that first time, Chris could have snapped his neck before it even registered what was going on.  
  
“You seemed harmless enough.”  
  
Jared arches an eyebrow. “That’s why you were the one on the ground.”  
  
“Well, didn’t count on you  _Bruce Lee-_ ing your way out of it. Figured you more for the ‘Eternal Sunshine’ kind.”  
  
Jared’s utterly confused. “I don’t – what?”  
  
 _Movies, Jared. Movies._  
  
Right. Jared has this strange sensation that Jensen’s rolling his eyes.  
  
Chris, oblivious, picks up where he left off. “So. You’re one of them, huh?”  
  
Jared wonders about a time where he knew how to answer questions like that.  
  
“I’m sorry – one of who?”  
  
Chris watches him with intent – but there’s nothing but truth to find. “Thought we had a ‘show me yours, I’ll show you mine’ kinda deal going on.”  
  
He pauses, brings a hand up, and Jared sees – it’s burning. Flames flicker from his fingertips, raise from his palm. Jared would probably be a lot more surprised at the turn of events if there wasn’t a voice in the background that promptly snorts at the thought.  
  
Chris clenches his fist – the flames vanish, leaving unmarred flesh behind. He grins wide, tilts his head in invitation.  
  
“Now you, cowboy.”  
  
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
  
Chris snorts. “Sure you don’t. We’re the same, you and I.”  
  
“People keep saying that.”  
  
Jensen cuts in.  _Yeah, but he’s wrong._  
  
“People?”  
  
Jared would really like to not have this conversation now. So, naturally, his response borders on excessively smart.  
  
“People,” he nods.  
  
Chris just shakes his head. The anger in his eyes has melted, now there’s a soft look in shades of brown.  
  
“Don’t have to tell me, Jared. Lost enough of them to know they ain’t easy to talk about. Just making conversation is all.”  
  
Jared stays silent. Not remembering what you left behind is mercy enough.  
  


 

~

  
  
  
“Go ahead ‘n ask your questions, I can hear you thinkin’ all the way over here,” Chris breaks the darkness.  
  
“What are those things outside the city limits?”  
  
Chris just gives him a look.  _He thinks you’re a moron,_ Jensen promptly translates into his head.  
  
“You mean the side order of creepy crawlies the popped out when the world went belly side up?  
  
Jared nods.  
  
“People. Well, not really. Ghosts. ’Cept not exactly… Shadows, maybe.”  
  
 “But – they look –“  
  
“Ugly?”  
  
“They don’t look like humans.”  
  
Chris hums, rubs a spot in his left hand with his right thumb. “That’s because they’re not. Probably were, once. But they’re lost. There isn’t death. Not anymore. There’s just that …  existence … but not.”  
  
Terrifying thought. “They don’t seem to like noise much.”  
  
Chris snorts. “Figured that out all by yourself, did ya?” He shakes his head. “You’re a lucky bastard for me to have found you first.”  
  
Jared’s “Didn’t feel so lucky to me” is echoed by Jensen.  
  
“You’ll live.” Chris pauses. “’Sides, I’m one of the good guys.”  
  
Jared raises an eyebrow. “I have a feeling good and bad don’t mean what they did.”  
  
“I didn’t kill you, did I?”  
  
Jared holds his gaze. “But you would have.”  
  
“Provided you were some psycho superhuman like most of them are? Hell yeah, I would have. Does that make me bad?”  
  
“Superhuman?”  
  
“Seriously, man? What cave did you crawl out of?”  
  
“I have no idea.”  
  
 Chris pauses for a few beats. “Well, at least you’re honest.”  
  
“I find nothing appealing in lies.”  
  
“Told ya. Definitely not human.”  
  
“But what am I?”  
  
“You’re asking me?”  
  
Jared smirks. “Well, there’s no one else around here, so, yes.”  
  
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a smartass?”  
  
Jared lets himself smile for a brief moment. “They have.” He pauses, tries to ignore the feeling of warmth that unwittingly spreads through his chest. “But you’re still not answering.”  
  
“Because you’re asking all the wrong questions, Jared.”  
  
“Or you simply don’t know.”  
  
“Maybe. But I know you’re a lot more than you think you are.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“The way you just walk around. No one does that. Not when the world is this fucked up. The only ones who do it are the ones that know they’re powerful enough.”  
  
“I’m not powerful. I’m not anything.”  
  
 _I strongly disagree with that._  
  
Chris seems to agree with Jensen’s thought, by the look in his eyes. Jared needs to figure something out. “Then, why trust me?”  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
“But –“  
  
Chris shrugs. “You coulda’ killed me, too, when you had a chance. You didn’t. We’re even for that.”  
  
“And this? Why are you staying?”  
  
“What can I say? I’m lonely.”  
  
“You have habit of telling half-truths.”  
  
“Better than full-out lies.”  
  
Jared relents. It’s probably all he’s going to get right now.  
  
It’s silent for a long time. Jared thought Chris had fallen asleep, when his voice fills the silence.  
  
“You’d like to think the world was different before this, right? That it was better? It wasn’t. It was just another shade of fucked up. You cure cancer, you cure every disease known to man, logical thing to do is put it in the win column, and move on. You get everything you want. But there’s always more. You always crave more. We’re greedy like that. It was never enough – never perfect enough. Some people forgot what the defining trait of human nature was.”  
  
Chris pauses, blows out a breath.  
  
“Secrets are kept for a reason. The existence of superhumans was one. Because they  _acted_  human. For all that mattered, for every day, for every job, they were. They were nothing special. No heroes, no villains. They lived, they died, they were more like us than we ever thought. But we saw something else. When it first came out, there were people that were scared. People that didn’t understand. But most of them … they just wanted what  the supers had.”  
  
The anger returns in his eyes. “It all came crashing down. For us, for them. Nobody was left unscathed. We were lab rats.”  
  
The derisive laugh that follows echoes in Jared’s mind.  
  
“Funny thing is, we all were. Supers, humans, everything in between. The ones who ran things, they thought it was worth it. Everyone was expendable till they got it. Till they had a perfect little super human of their own .”Flames flicker from Chris’ fingertips, eyes going glassy, lost in another time.  
  
“Years passed. Two, then five, ten. Fifteen. They lived. Their experiments. The  _breakthrough._ It was better than anything anyone could have dreamed of. People wanted. So they got. Everyone was better. Until they were not. It – the thing they were so proud of, the creation of their own sick minds – it killed. Slow, agonizing, decomposing right before their eyes. Turns out, not everyone’s body was equipped to deal with the enhancements. The replicas of the perfect specimen – almost all, dead. It was chaos. War. People panicked. They forgot they did it to themselves, with their own hands. Those who survived … well –”  
  
Chris holds Jared’s gaze, dancing fire from his hands illuminating the twisted smile plastered on his face. “- truth is, we were all dead long before this started, anyway.”  
  


 

~

 

  
_Hell of a bedtime story._  
  
A story Jared thinks Jensen already knew.  
  
 _Some._  
  
Jared’s given up the hope of getting full answers out of Jensen.  
  
 _It’s his, Jared. His story. Not mine. Not ours._  
  
Jared kind of figures it out when he watches Chris sleep and realizes he doesn’t need to — hasn’t.  
  
 _I’m surprised he trusted you enough to do it, though._  
  
Jared disagrees. Chris doesn’t trust Jared. He just let the chips fall where they may – he wants to live just as much as he doesn’t.  
  
 _Healthy._  
  
But understandable.  
  
 _This is depressing. Talk about something else._  
  
Jared doesn’t have any stories. They always end up with Jensen’s.  
  
 _Yes, you mooch. Keep milking that._  
  
Jared wants to know – wants to talk about everything with Jensen. About nothing. About what he likes, about what he doesn’t, about all the things that make Jensen  _Jensen._  
  
 _Well. I’m obviously hot._  
  
Jared rolls his eyes.  
  
 _I don’t know. It’s hard talking to you like this._  
  
Jared supposes being a voice in his head is not an ideal circumstance.  
  
Jensen laughs.  _Not that._ A pause, Jensen searching for words.  _You, not knowing who I am. Building this from scratch. We never had to do that. We grew up together. We always knew each other better than we knew ourselves._  
  
Jared thinks about how much that’s changed, and not. How much of Jensen he can still feel inside him, how his words are the only ones he really understands.  
  
 _Sap._  
  
Jared doesn’t mind. He just urges Jensen to go on.  
  
A long-suffering sigh, then,  _Fine. But just so you know, you’ll be sorry you asked._  
  
Jared doubts that.  
  
Jensen lets out a short, disbelieving laugh.  _Right. Well. I don’t really know where to start._  
  
The last words are clumsy, uncharacteristically shy.  
  
 _Shut up._  
  
Jared hasn’t talked.  
  
 _Asshole. See, you’re always doing that. Big and tough, my ass. You just like messing with everyone._  
  
Jared smiles inwardly, looks over at Chris, who is still mercifully asleep. Fire coming out of his hands and all, but Jared’s not sure he’d understand.  
  
 _Maybe you should give him a chance._  
  
Jared ignores that. Frankly, he’s just not ready to share Jensen with anyone.  
  
 _Possessive._  
  
All the best qualities in a guy.  
  
Jensen laughs. It’s a low, rich sound, so soothing, Jared’s not sure he’ll ever get enough.  
  
 _Told you_ –  
  
Jared interrupts. He wants Jensen to talk. He lays down the rules. One, Jensen doesn’t mention Jared. He just wants to understand, who Jensen is, outside of this. Who he would have been if he was a stranger he’d crossed paths with. He’s sure it’s a faulty premise, because Jensen can’t let go of the knowledge more than Jared can remember it, but he wants to try.  
  
He wants to get to know Jensen. He wants to get to know the voice in his mind.  
  
 _Crazy person._ Bit shaky, but quickly covered up.  _Okay. I have no idea what you want to know. I’m just … I’m a guy. Besides the whole talking in people’s head thing._ Jensen chuckles nervously. It’s a contrast to his usual attitude. It’s a part Jared decides he quite likes.  _So. Let’s see … what I like. Music? Movies? Sounds stupid. Noise. Life, maybe. It’s funny how much I enjoy the human side._  
  
Well, that answers  _that_ question.  
  
 _Yeah. Not human. Neither are you. I was born like this. I wasn’t born on Earth. I wouldn’t be able to talk to you like this otherwise. Chris was right. They tried. But they were just copies. Good, but still flawed. Still frail – they weren’t made for this. Not their bodies, not their minds._  
  
Chris knows that. Probably feels his body giving up, slowly, from inside. It explains so much of how he acts.  
  
 _But he was wrong. The world was beautiful once. I loved the winter. The snow. Before, I had never seen that._  
  
Jared wonders what  _before_ was.  
  
 _Before we were free._  
  
But now he’s not. And he’s stuck with Jared, a fragment so broken he doesn’t know if he’ll ever manage to put back. So how can Jensen still think like that?  
  
 _Jared … No._  
  
Jensen avoids the question. Jared’s had enough.  
  
 _Stubborn motherfucker._  
  
The list of qualities keeps growing.  
  
 _Look. The woe-is-me crap? Not me. It’s rough. It’s hard, stuck in the same place, same fucking walls. But I’ve made most of that. It could have been so much worse. Hell, it has been. Trust me, the way things went down? We were both damn lucky._  
  
Jared’s just about to ask what he means by that, when a grumbling Chris finds his way to wakefulness. Sleep-addled eyes find Jared – he seems surprised.  
  
“Thought you’d run for the hills after last night.”  
  
Jared smiles. “You’ll find that I hate running.”  
  
Chris chuckles. “You’d rather stay and fight.”  
  
“I was hoping we won’t do much fighting from now on.”  
  
Chris arches an eyebrow. “Why do that? You met me last night.”  
  
There isn’t a simple answer to that. Jared clears his throat, stutters out his response.  
  
“The thing I hate most about this … how still everything is. This city – everything’s intact. And outside – besides the Shadows … there’s nothing. So I need someone to remind me there’s hope.” He pauses, smirks. “One of the good guys.”  
  
“You do know there’s no candy and unicorns at the end of that rainbow, right?” Chris says, watching Jared warily.  
  
“I’m sure you’ll remind me often enough.”  
  
“I’ve been alone for a long time.”  
  
Jared shrugs. “I woke up in a grave. I don’t really know who I am.”  
  
“You make a stupid move, I’m not saving your ass.”  
  
“You will. But I can let you pretend you won’t if that’s what you like.”  
  
Chris points at finger at him. “You’re going to be a pain in my ass.”  
  
Jared nods. “Probably.”  
  
Jensen snorts in the background.  
  
“What’s to say you’re not dangerous?”  
  
Jared sobers up fast. “Nothing.”  
  
To his surprise, Chris grins so wide it must be hurting his jaw. “Perfect. When do we leave?”  
  


 

~

 

  
“You know, I thought the whole point of this facing the big, bad world together was to talk.”  
  
They walk, side by side – gray road shading back to black and crimson turning copper. It’s the landscape outside of the cities. Same colors, same shadows that follow. Jared wonders what made it like this – he has vague memories of trees with green, rich crowns that turn brilliantly yellow and orange in the fall. He focuses on Chris, on  _now._ It’s harder than he thinks.  
  
Jared finally answers. “No, it was mostly because I don’t understand a whole lot of what’s happening.”  
  
Chris raises a questioning eyebrow, but his lips curl slightly in amusement. “So you’re using me.”  
  
“Well, I’m enjoying your presence, if that’s what you’re wondering.”  
  
Chris just shakes his head and barks out a laugh.  
  


 

~

 

  
Jared wants to ask Jensen about the things he remembered during the fight with Chris.  Seeing, feeling how easily he had overpowered Chris brought a lot of doubts. What scares Jared is how much of it came inherently, action without thought to consequence – almost killing someone else.  
  
And there’d been a second, a moment, when Jared didn’t see Chris. Where he would have done it – could have.  
  
 _You didn’t,_ is all Jensen says.  
  
Jensen’s quiet a long time after that.  
  


 

~

 

  
“Been doing this a long time?”  
  
Chris raises his gaze from the ground, where he’s been watching the flames dancing around, food wrappers and garbage slowly being engulfed. Chris has quite an appetite.  
  
“The fire thing? Since I was five years old. Wandering about and picking up tall, dark and recently-gotten-out-of-a-grave strangers? Just started.” He pauses for a moment, looks straight into Jared’s eyes. “Why?”  
  
Jared shrugs. “Talking. You said to talk.” He purses his lips in a thin line. “I’m not very good at that.”  
  
“You’re not good at small talk. Trust me, you’re plenty convincing otherwise.”  
  
Jared hangs on to a detail. “Five?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You said you were five years old.”  
  
Chris takes a moment to follow the train of thought, and nods. “I was.”  
  
“That’s cruel.”  
  
“It was what it was,” Chris deadpans. “’S not like I was the only one. Far from that.”  
  
Jared can’t get it. Hurting. Children – just for a selfish cause. “And that makes it better?”  
  
“It makes it normal.”  
  
Jared stays silent. Normal doesn’t mean right.  
  


 

~

 

 

  
“Remember how I told you there’s way worse things than me out there?”  
  
“Yeah.” Jared nods.  
  
“Well, this would be the time to start getting scared.”  
  
Jared’s brows knit in confusion. Chris stops, puts a hand on Jared’s shoulder, halting his movement.  
  
“Look. Back there? That was more like the center of a tornado. Quiet. Calm. Relatively safe. Empty. I don’t know why, but what I know is, going forward, it ain’t gonna be like that. There’s a lot of people that like the new order.” He pauses, looks around. “Or the lack thereof. You can’t go on like you have. You need to watch your back at all times.”  
  
Jared’s lips quirk into a smug smile. “What makes you think I haven’t till now?”  
  
“Please. First few days, world coulda gone to hell a second time and you wouldn’t have noticed. Too busy smellin’ what passes for roses now.”  
  
Jared can’t really argue with that. Waking up, Jensen, the world that he couldn’t figure out – it had been a lot. Chris pats him on the back, grins.  
  
“It’s all good.” His expression turns serious. “But you carry your load when you’re with me. I ain’t getting killed now.”  
  
“Until you figure out a way to stay dead, permanently, you mean,” Jared amends.  
  
There’s a look of surprise that flickers in Chris’ eyes, but it’s gone in an instant, and his expression turns hard. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
  
He lets go of Jared’s arm, starts to walk.  
  
  


 

~

 

  
  
There’s tension in the air after that. The little conversation they have is awkward and strained, and Jared wants to believe it’s because they’re heading to parts unknown, and the forecast reads cloudy with a chance of death, but he can’t fool himself. Jared’s blunt remark has caused Chris to pull back.  
  
But Jared doesn’t try to bring it up. He hadn’t lied – he isn’t good at this. It takes ages till he figures out how to say what he wants, he keeps turning it all in his head, thinking, pondering, switching it around till it makes sense – the only time he doesn’t feel he has to do that is with Jensen. He’s tempted to go back to his initial theory, and say that the reason that’s so easy is because it’s essentially himself he’s talking to.  
  
He can’t. Jensen’s become a part of him in another way, and if at first it felt familiar, now it’s downright etched into his mind. He can’t imagine the world without Jensen’s voice. It drives him forward, to be, to exist, and maybe that’s too much, maybe it’s the hope of a desperate man, and Jared’s just clinging to a beautiful illusion of a broken mind.  
  
It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t, because, when Chris grunts in response for the millionth time, making it two painful days and one night they haven’t really talked, Jensen tells him in that soft tone he has when he feels there’s something wrong that everything’s going to be all right.  
  
And it should reek of cliché, and it shouldn’t sound as convincing as it does. But Jared gets lost, sometimes. He gets lost in Jensen’s voice following him along the paths of his mind, collecting little pieces of himself one at a time.  
  


 

~

 

  
It’s dawn.  
  
To Jared, it’s the moment he enjoys the least in the day. If he loves the nights for the quiet, and the days for the light, he loathes the bleak, wretched painting that reveals itself each time the sun comes up. Red, blood, dark, weak, pitiful – a cover thrown to hide all hope and life. It’s always the same. Repetition, driving him mad – he always believes, uselessly, in change. That there will be one night without sleep that will make a difference, that will restore the world back to what it was.  
  
Chris is just waking up – they stop, consistently – the lack of basic needs Jared seems to have doesn’t apply to Chris. He needs at least a few hours of sleep every night, and food and water he finds at deserted grocery shops.  
  
That’s another thing that Jared can’t make heads or tails of. Everything’s untouched. Stores with carefully arranged products displayed on the shelves, or a squeaky clean house they’d appropriated for the night – everything inside the buildings is clean. Ordered. Neat, ready for a magazine shot.  
  
That’s the thing that unsettles him the most. Especially because Chris doesn’t seem to notice it. He just shrugs when Jared points it out as they stand in the aisle of another pristine grocery store.  
  
“I ain’t complaining. Free food, man.”  
  
Jared huffs, but lets it go. Chris doesn’t seem inclined to do the same, though. All the tension from the last few days bubbles up into a mumbled rant that Jared’s only half-paying attention to.  
  
“I’m serious. If you got that stick out of your –“  
  
Jared interrupts. “Shut up.”  
  
“What, I’ve hurt your feelings now? Fuck you –“  
  
Jared clamps a hand over Chris’s mouth. He brings a finger to his lips, signals for silence.  
  
There’s the same sound. A crackle, followed by a soft whooshing sound.  
  
Chris’s eyes, looking over Jared’s shoulder, go wide.  
  
Jared wants to turn around.  _Danger_ , screams in his head, mostly in Jensen’s voice and with all the profanities he can find. But Jared can’t. There’s a woman in front of him, behind Chris’s back. Tall, blonde, hair long and curly. She has eyes the color of a clear ocean. She smiles, slow, satisfied, and puts a hand on Chris’ shoulder.  
  
Unhurried, assured gesture – and Chris screams.  
  
He screams, long and sharp, agony twisted out of him in sickening sounds as he falls to the ground with a thud, whole body shaking, like live current’s passing through him –  
  
 _That’s because it is._  
  
Jensen’s right. He can see in her eyes, now terrifyingly white, foam of waves sweeping the blue away. The crackle, the thin, blinding strings stitching her fingertips to Chris – it all makes sense.  
  
Jared has a choice. He always does.  
  
He can run. He can fight.  
  
Jared half-expects Jensen to intervene. To say something.  
  
He doesn’t.  
  
So Jared doesn’t think. He jumps forward, nothing else in mind than attack, get both of them out alive. He’s almost there, almost lands a solid punch – but it’s all wrong, the woman doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move back. She just stands there. Watches, grins as Jared collides with something solid that throws him back several feet.  
  
He smashes into the chips and snack shelves and lands in an awkward heap, a loud, pitiful spectacle when he slides down to meet the ground with a painful thump.  
  
It takes a few seconds for Jared to get his bearings, process what’s happening. Too much.  
  
Finally his eyes focus on a man. Dark hair, eyes that blaze when he crosses the distance impossibly fast and grabs Jared by the back of the neck.  
  
The man just smiles indulgently. He brushes the thumb of his free hand over Jared’s cheekbone – and Jared wants to laugh when he hears Jensen growling in the background, but the man’s grip is tight –  as much as Jared struggles, he can’t budge.  
  
The man just watches Jared.  
  
If Jared didn’t know any better, he’d say there was fascination, curiosity in his captor’s eyes.  
  


 

~

 

  
So many things swirl in his mind. Jensen. Jared shuts that part of himself down – even though Jensen’s voice is all he wants to hear right now. He can’t. He can’t let Jensen get hurt because of him. Chris. He’s nowhere in sight. Neither is the blonde. Jared doesn’t want to think about what that means.  
  
He’s getting out of this. He just is. Whatever this is, it’s not the end.  
  
  


~

 

  
Jared fights.  
  
He does. But the man is pinning him to the ground with a force that shouldn’t be possible – immovable, unyielding. The look in those pale green eyes, the vicious leer on that cruel face – Jared feels like a fly in a kid’s hands.  
  
“Well, well. Look what we found.”  
  
He grabs Jared’s wrist, forces his hand over his head, and Jared snarls – the feeling of powerlessness, the helplessness – it’s new, it’s terrifying, it’s something he discovers in anger, in frustration born in failure to do anything. The man keeps one of his hands on Jared’s chest, pressing down, but the other traces the inside of Jared’s right wrist reverently, brushing over the ridges there, the lines that held no meaning to Jared, not until now.  
  
He looks down at Jared, smile wide, self-satisfied. “Been busy, haven’t we?” He chuckles. “You can’t run from who you are, Jared. Thought your daddy taught you that.”  
  
Jared glares. He doesn’t know what reaction the man is counting on. The searching eyes travel down Jared’s body, questioning, hungry. The palm on his chest spreads, fingers inching towards his neck. Jared sees the marks on the man’s forearm, twin to those on his own.  
  
“It’s too easy.” A pause, and the man takes a deep breath, smile fading slightly. “Things I want to do to you …” Fingers curl around his wrist, and twist. Sharp, sudden. Jared can’t fight the scream that escapes him. A dark chuckle makes its way out of the man’s throat. “You bleed. Your bones … I’m going to enjoy breaking them so much. One by one.” His left hand is on Jared’s neck now. Slight pressure, then harder, and Jared struggles to breathe, struggles to suck in enough air into his lungs, but he can’t –  
  
 “You were always human where it counts,” the man says, loosening his hands.  
  
Jared coughs, fights his way back to normal breathing as the man stands up.  
  
It doesn’t matter.  
  
The world goes black a second after that.  
  


 

~

 

  
He’s back.  
  
Jared’s back to nothingness, to the darkness that swallows him – it dissolves, it shatters in smithereens when the dull ache in the back of his head announces itself, consciousness ruthless and unforgiving. He opens his eyes slowly, sluggishly, and the world takes a few moments to come into focus.  
  
He’s alone.  
  
The world is white. Dirty white, light falling down, even in the absence of a window or a sun. He puts a hand on the wall – and his hand goes right through it. Immaterial, a shadow, inconsequential. A silence filled with the knowledge of something missing. He opens the door in his mind he’d shut.  
  
 _Welcome back, Clementine._  
  
It’s a decision as selfish as letting go of the voice was selfless.  
  
 _You know, at some point we need to talk about that._  
  
Jared’s confused. There’s a lot of things they need to talk about.  
  
A deep breath. Then, quiet, resigned,  _Are you okay?_  
  
He’s fine.  
  
 _Of course you are._ The tone is cold, there’s no hint of humor.  _Look. Jared. This isn’t going to work like this. You shutting me down every time you think something bad is going to happen._  
  
Weird, Jared thought that was exactly the point of having control of it.  
  
 _No. It’s not. And it pisses me off that you don’t get it._  
  
Muted anger seeps through the next words.  _Want to know why I’m where I am? Why I’m trapped?_  
  
Jared’s pretty sure he won’t like the answer. Still, nothing prepares him for what follows.  
  
 _You. It’s because of you. You did this._  
  
No. Why? He can’t have –  
  
 _You did. You protected me._ A derisive laugh.  _I’m alive. I’m alive, you asshole. Do you think it matters? Do you think I wanted this? Do you think that hurt less? Not knowing … I thought you were gone._  
  
The voice falters – but comes back stronger.  
  
 _You came back. You’re exactly the same, but you’re different._ A deep breath.  _You can’t do this anymore. Because I hate you for what it makes me._  
  
Jared stumbles over a response – this side of Jensen he doesn’t recognize. There was always warmth in the teasing, always love in the words. Jensen’s justified – if Jared put Jensen in his prison, he deserves Jensen’s anger – but why lash out now? It hurts, more than he thought it could.  
  
 _It was your fault as much as it wasn’t. We were all doing our best._ A few beats of silence, and Jared fears what’s next. He cares. He cares more than he should.  _I know your intentions are good. But I don’t need you to protect me. I never did. You don’t owe me anything. And dying for me doesn’t prove you love me. It just proves that you don’t know me at all._  
  
Jared wishes he could understand. He does. But not really. He gets why he would do what he did. He gets why it’s wrong for Jensen, but instinct tells him that’s the only option, that it has to be him. Easy. Arrogant. Death is something Jared’s never feared. Being alone is.  
  
 _I know._ The voice is softer, some of the anger melted away.  _I know. And as much as I bitch, I’d do the same. Hell, I did. But that was then. We’re doing this differently. If anything good can come of it, it’s this. You need to choose. Together, or not at all._  
  
There’s no choice, really. It’s who he is. It would hurt more than the alternative.  
  


 

~

 

 

  
“Hi.” The white dissolves, his body remembers itself, conforms to gravity. The same cold eyes hover above him. “Long time no see.”  
  
Jared doesn’t have time to think. He’s pulled up, shoved into something solid, the man’s hand cupping his jaw roughly.  
  
Jensen’s voice, cutting in.  
  
 _Tom._  
  
Shocked. Wary. A warning.  
  
Jared decides to process that information later. Right now, he’s trying to focus on finding a weakness in the man in front of him. It’s not only the inhuman physical strength that worries him. It’s the conviction in his belief.  
  
“You enjoyed the time in Mike’s magic bubble?” Tom turns his head, looks to the bald man standing next to him. The guy nods acknowledgment. “Bit soft for my liking.” He licks his lips. “There’s nothing in there to make you scream.”  
  
Jared growls, clasps his fingers around the man’s wrists. It’s useless. He can’t move an inch.  
  
 _Jared. Listen to me. You can fight him. You can. It’s in you._  
  
But it’s not. Chris was right – lady luck smiled at him, running into Chris. But his luck’s run out.  
  
 _Fuck. No. It’s not. Just. Think. Feel. Let –_  
  
Whatever Jensen has to say, it’s cut off by a punch to Jared’s jaw that sends his head spinning. Another, to his stomach. He goes down, sprawls on the cold concrete. He’s outside now. Not in the grocery store anymore. Fleeting thought gone in the next moment, when a kick gets him in the ribs, and he has to concentrate to breathe.  
  
He’s pulled up, rag doll in Tom’s hands. He searches Jared’s eyes, a trace of confusion lingering in his gaze.  
  
“What I don’t understand is –“Another kick, and Jared feels ribs crack – “Why are you just taking this? Why not fight back?” The man draws his arm back for another blow, but pauses, his right fist clenched, hovering in the air. “Oh. I know. Is it because of your beloved Jensen? Because he’s dead, and it’s your fault? Because you were too stubborn to listen to your daddy?”  
  
Jared watches him, feels blood trickling on his chin. It doesn’t hurt. Not as much the truth in Tom’s eyes does.  
  
“Want to know who else is dead because of you?” Tom smiles maliciously, and Jared’s come to hate it – it’s always cruel, twisted. “Your buddy. Adrianne was having too much fun with him.”  
  
Jared snarls, lunges ineffectively – he’s thrown back down, booted foot pressing on his chest, pinning him down.  
  
“What the fuck happened to you, boy wonder?” There’s honest curiosity in Tom’s voice. It doesn’t make Jared feel better. “I can’t even enjoy this. It’s too fucking easy.”  
  
Tom looks like he wants to go on – but a pat on his shoulder by the other guy – Mike – stops him. Mike whispers something in Tom’s ear, and Tom looks down at Jared, appraising.  
  
“I don’t care. I’m taking him. I’ve waited too long for this,” Tom declares after a few seconds.  
  
Mike seems too scared to protest again.  
  
Jensen laughs bitterly.  _He is. He’s pissing his pants right now. He never stood up to Tom. And he’s afraid of you, too._  
  
Jared can’t really fathom why, he’s losing pathetically right now.  
  
 _Well, if you would get your ass up and fight like you know how to, you’d fucking understand._  
  
Right. He’ll get right on that. Jensen seems to miss the point – if Jared knew what to do, he wouldn’t be playing the punching bag.  
  
Tom hauls Jared up roughly, but this time, he grabs him by the arm, helps him stand up.  
  
“Get Adrianne. We’re leaving,” he tells Mike, who scurries off like his feet are burning. Tom turns to Jared. “That would be the cavalry. They’re a very annoying pain in my world-dominating ass.”  
  
Tom has barely dragged Jared two steps when they are stopped by a blonde man, shorter than both of them. Jared’s fleeting amazement at the very pink and very tight pants the would-be rescuer is wearing communicates itself to Jensen.  
  
 _The cavalry is … Chad._ Jensen sounds incredulous. _Well. It’s been nice knowing you, Jared._  
  
Jared tends to agree with the sentiment – especially when the blonde woman – Adrianne – appears behind Chad, grasps his shoulder – and Chad disintegrates with a red flash. Jared’s too shocked for a moment to take in Tom’s annoyed huff.  
  
“Idiot. That’s faster.”  
  
Yeah. Jared has absolutely no idea what Tom is talking about. But his eyes go wide when Chad appears again in the same spot mere moments after there was only ash. Chad turns towards Adrianne, and the knife he throws nicks her in the side. She falls on the ground, clutching her wound, looking up at Chad incredulously.  
  
“That’s right, blondie. High voltage isn’t the only trick in the bag that does the job.”  
  
Chad turns to face Tom – defiant, unafraid. Tom shoves Jared unceremoniously on the ground, prepares to fight.  
  
 _Um. This would be the time to run?_  
  
Jared could. But he needs to find Chris. And he can’t leave, not when this Chad is fighting for – because of – him. But Jared doesn’t even have time to get off the ground before a decidedly feminine voice sounds out.  
  
“Give it up, Welling. Let them go, or I put a bullet in your lover’s head.”  
  
Jared raises his eyes – and there, behind Chad, coming towards them is a redhead manhandling Mike, with a gun pressed against his temple. Mike’s face is dead white.  
  
But Tom just shakes his head, clenches his fists.  
  
The woman’s fingers stroke the trigger. “Last chance.”  
  
Jared watches as Tom grits his teeth – if he’s honest, he doesn’t think it’s enough of an incentive for Tom. But Tom surprises Jared when he raises his hands in surrender – grudgingly, but all the time, looking into Mike’s eyes.  
  
“Good. Now make one of your bubble-balls,” the redhead directs Mike. Mike mumbles a word of protest and she presses the gun harder against his head. “Do it.”  
  
A silvery-white sphere, as tall as a man, blinks into existence.  
  
“Okay, Welling. Give blondie here a hand.” The redhead watches as Tom reaches out for Adrianne, cocks her head. “Good. Now, get in. Both of you.”  
  
“I am going to enjoy making you pay for this.” Tom gets out between gritted teeth.  
  
The redhead just rolls her eyes.  
  
Fury is rolling off Tom in waves, but he pulls Adrianne to her feet, causing her to cry out. “You might want to be a little nicer, you’re going to be in there together for a while.”  
  
Tom growls, but the sound of the pistol cocking makes him step into the featureless whiteness. As Tom and Adrianne vanish, the woman knocks Mike unconscious with the gun butt.  
  
“They’re only stuck in Mike’s playground until he wakes up, so let’s move.”  
  
The next thing Jared knows, Chad is at his side, checking him for injuries, patting him down. He looks way more worried than a casual stranger should be. The next thing out of his mouth confirms Jared’s suspicions.  
  
“Jared. Fuck. Man. You’re alive. You hurt? Jensen? What happened? How’d you get out? Where –“  
  
“Chris,” Jared rasps out.  
  
Chad looks confused for a moment, then figures out who Jared means. He looks up to the redhead, who nods. “The other guy?”  
  
Jared nods.  
  
“He’s in bad shape, but he’s alive. In the store behind the fuel station.”  
  
It’s all he could ask for. He bats Chad’s hands away when Chad tries to help him get up – Jared has had enough of people touching him, good intentions or not. He stands, a bit unsteady on his feet, but otherwise fine. It doesn’t even hurt that much anymore. He puts wondering why it doesn’t to the back of his mind.  
  
Chad watches warily as Jared makes his way down the street to Chris. He’s curled up on the floor, blood leaking from his mouth, arms clasped around his stomach, but he greets Jared with “Told ya to watch out” and a shaky grin.  
  
Chad cuts in before Jared can answer.  
  
“Look, guys, I don’t want to interrupt this Oprah reunion or anything, but we really need to get going. That asshole isn’t going to stay gone long, and I doubt we can pull another miraculous escape off right now.”  
  
Jared knows that. But he doesn’t know who Chad is. He’s getting tired of people knowing more about himself than he does.  
  
 _He’s your best friend. Supposedly. I always thought it was a sign you were crazy._  
  
He wants to believe that. But it should feel different.  
  
 _How did it feel when he touched you?_  
  
Jared really doesn’t know what Jensen means by that.  
  
 _When he was checking you over – did you feel anything?_  
  
Yeah. He felt … light. Weightless. Strong.  
  
 _Now think about Tom._  
  
His touch was cold – ice that dragged him down.  
  
 _Exactly. Remember when you shook Chris’ hand? You knew him. Well, not really, but his touch was enough for you to trust him. It’s like that. One of those things you, me, a handful can do. Reading Chris was like an echo, because that’s all he is to us right now. A replica. But it’s part of us – the superhumans. It’s who we are._  
  
Jared decides to put the theory to test, grabs Chad’s hand – much to his protest and surprise.  
  
It floods him.  
  
His broken reality, stitching itself back – it comes all at once, pulling at him from each part. A first memory – sand. A beach. A child, curly blond hair, running around. Another kid, dimpled smile out in full force, following him. Jared knows it’s him and Chad. Another memory, moons casting weak rays of light over a shadow. Chad’s grown up. They’re fighting. Squaring off. But there’s no intent for harm. Practice. Then him, in an arena, Chad, watching him with a sad smile from the stands. More. All enveloped in the same feeling of illusory non-existence, amplified.  
  
He lets go – opens eyes he didn’t realize he had closed.  
  
Jared smiles.  
  
It’s a start.


	3. Chapter 3

  
**PART THREE**

 

Chad leads them to a military base.

It’s strange, seeing something other than crimson and black, or concrete and steel. It’s the first thing that seems … normal. Used, lived in. Not like the cities, skyscrapers that scratched the sky fruitlessly, statues keeping company to empty streets, buildings left impossibly cold in the aftermath, scattered amidst the lifeless landscape, inky roads swimming in blood, no life in green or brown.

But this installation, from the first moment, it felt – it felt right. And that feeling – plus Chad – gives Jared hope.

He knows Chad will have answers for him.

 

~

 

 

The hallways are, to Jared’s surprise – full of people coming and going.

The grey doesn’t seem as dull as it does outside, and if Jared could figure out why everyone’s looking at him like he’s going to murder someone in the next second, it would be kind of nice.

Chad notices the looks Jared is getting, too. “Don’t take it personally. They always look that way in front of you.”

Jared’s confused.  “Why?”

“Well, they’re afraid, for one.” Chad’s lips quirk into a smug smile. “And now there’s the whole coming back from the dead thing.”

Right. Jared guesses that makes sense. Before he can say anything else, Chad stops, opens a door and signals for Jared to follow him in. It’s an office. It’s nothing out of the ordinary – but as soon as Jared enters, he’s hit with a wave of familiarity, of warmth so strong, he has to lean forward, catch himself on the edge of the mahogany desk, and just breathe in. Breathe deep, revel in the feeling of belonging that spreads through him, that he longed for, and finds accidentally.

“You good?”

Chad’s voice snatches him out of his thoughts, and when Jared lifts his head, there’s a look of concern on his friend’s face.

“Yes,” Jared assures him. “I just – I just keep remembering.”

Chad’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything. He takes a seat, and Jared mirrors him, leaning back in the chair across the desk.

Chad is watching Jared, studying him. Jared lets him – Jared’s not the only one who needs the reassurance, who needs to figure things out. Jared takes the time to look around, to see if he can identify why it fees familiar.

Jared’s gaze is fixed on a snow globe when Chad finally speaks.

“So. There’s a shitload of questions I want to ask you.” Chad pauses, searches for the right words. “But the main one is … what the fuck?”

_Eloquent as always._

Jensen’s voice is a welcome addition to the conversation. Jared smiles. Chad goes on.

“What the everloving fuck, Jared? Where were you? Where’s Jensen? What’s going on?”

“One at a time, Chad.”

“First one.”

Jared quirks an eyebrow. “Where I was?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Jared shrugs. “Exactly that.”

“That’s not cryptic at all.”

“Well, I woke up in a grave, if that helps.”

Chad narrows his eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me.”

“I’m not.”

“See, but that’s exactly what you’d say if you were,” Chad says, pointing an admonishing finger at him.

“Do you think I’d joke about anything like this?”

Chad ponders that for a moment.

“I guess not,” he gives in. “Jensen?”

Jared notices the sliver of hope that creeps in that single word.

_Say thank you to him for saving your sorry ass. I guess he’s not completely useless,_ Jensen cuts in.

“Alive.” Jared answers shortly.

“But not with you.”

Chad’s very observant.

“Is he – can you feel him?” Chad’s voice is quiet, but Jared’s eyes snap up to him. How does he know about that?

Chad seems to understand what Jared’s asking wordlessly.

“You really can’t remember much, can you?”

Jared smiles bitterly. “What gave me away?”

Chad answers with a sad smile spreading across his face. “A lot, actually.” He clears his throat, continues. “Only your ugly mug’s the same. Which I guess is good, because, for whatever reason, Drill Sergeant Ackles likes it that way.”

Jared almost chokes on the reply. “Serg- _Sergeant_ Ackles?

Chad seems entirely too satisfied with himself. “This is going to be so much fun.” He pauses, turns around the plaque with Jensen’s name for Jared to see. “Yep. Sergeant Ackles, badass motherfucker, and general pain in the ass.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Which part? ‘Cause on the annoying one I will happily elaborate.“

Jared leans back in his chair, sighs. “It’s just – I should know that.”

Chad stays silent, blue eyes full of pity.

_Jared, come on. You didn’t know your own name. My job isn’t exactly the ten point answer on the quiz._

It’s not as comforting as Jared expects it to be.

“How much do you remember?” Chad breaks the silence, after it’s clear Jared isn’t going to contribute.

“I remember you.”

“I feel flattered.”

“And fighting.” He pauses, searches for the memories. “And places … bits and pieces. I don’t think – I don’t think it’s this. Or whatever it was before. I think. It feels different. Does that make sense?”

Chad nods. “More than you know. How much of the _we’re not human_ part you got?”

“Well, I saw you burn up and come back to life, I saw Chris making a campfire with his hands, and I’m pretty sure Tom could kill me with his pinky finger if he wanted to.”

Chad laughs hollowly. “That would do it.”

“How does it work?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. It’s just the way we are. I can’t die, I’m guessing Chris is fire-friendly, and Welling is an overfed tank. Superhumans.”

Something clicks. “Aliens.”

Chad looks offended. “Dude. _Atharians._ ”

The last part is said in reverence, and Jared guesses it should mean something to him.

“Seriously?” Chad rolls his eyes. “Home planet, Jared. Earth was never where we were supposed to be.”

Suddenly, it makes more sense. “Chris said something about that. Humans … they wanted to be like us.”

“Yep. Because we’re awesome.” Chad’s expression turns serious in an instant. “It was pretty awful, actually. It turned real ugly at the end.” He leans back in the chair – but his eyes are far away. “It was good at first, when we came. There were just few of us, and we kept to ourselves. Me, Jensen, you … but then others realized – we did the right thing. Atharia wasn’t going to change. The King wasn’t going to sacrifice the tradition, not even for his own son. So they came, too. Only they didn’t get that it was a refuge. That we were supposed to seem human. Keep our heads down. They saw that the average Atharian had it all over the natives. Arrogance. Turned against the humans against all of us.”

Jared continues his train of thought. “And that caused this –” Jared waves his hand, “— desolation?”

Chad’s gaze snaps to his. He looks surprised. “What? No. It made Earth a pretty crappy place to live, but it didn’t do this. We have no idea what did. All I know is, I was making a barbecue in my yard, laughing with my wife, and then … lights out. Dark. I woke up in a pile of ash.”

Jared fastens on a detail. “Your wife?”

Chad smiles smugly. “Danneel. Redhead that saved your ass.”

“She’s –“

“Human.”

“Brave,” Jared amends.

“She is. She’s really okay with the whole Phoenix thing I got going, too. She’s a keeper.”

“I bet.” But that reminds Jared. “So, how does it work? How did you know about Jensen and me?”

Chad takes a deep breath. “Gods, that’s a long story.” He sighs, but starts to speak. “Sergeant? That’s Jensen’s day job. The human one. We had to fit in. He chose military. It suited him. Back home, he was the best soldier of them all. On his way to Captain in your father’s superior army.”

That answer creates a million questions.  Jared ignores them all, lets Chad go at his own pace.

“It helped that Jensen was the most powerful Atharian I, and everybody else, has ever seen. The things he could do with his mind …” Jared feels inexplicably proud. “Heavy stuff. Reading, projecting – at a level nobody else could. The average guy could catch a passing thought, a fleeting feeling. Jensen could give you a transcript and not break a sweat. He could convince an entire army to jump on one foot and sing _Kumbaya_ if he wanted. “

Chad eyes Jared fondly. “What that meant for you two was a much more powerful bond that usual. And with what you are, too –“

 Jared jumps on Chad’s words. ”What am I?”

Chad smirks. “Trophy husband.”

“Chad –”

“You’re kind of terrifyingly good at what you do, too.”

Jared’s not sure that could be true.

_It is. Just because you haven’t found that part in yourself yet, doesn’t mean it’s not there. Took you a long while the first time, too. ,_ Jensen interjects – and it’s funny, how he always finds the right moments to intervene, how he knows when Jared needs him.

“I don’t really know what that means, Chad.” Jared pauses, looks for words that can convey what he feels. “I’m … I don’t know what I am. I’m starting to get it, but I’m far from what any of you think of me.”

Chad shrugs. “Maybe. But people thought you were nothing for a long time. You proved them wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The reason we came here wasn’t ‘cause the grass is greener on this side. Back on Athara…you either had a power, or you were dead.” There’s a sharp inhale, and Jared braces himself for what’s next. “You were the King’s son. But time passed, and you didn’t present – you have to understand, a child not having powers was the greatest shame any Atharian parent could feel. You were useless. And your daddy ain’t the cuddliest person on the best of days.”

Jared reflects. “Think I got that impression from Tom.”

Chad’s expression is a mix of amusement and thinly masked anger. “Yeah, Welling and his league of blind followers were the ones who were supposed to be watching you when you escaped. The King wasn’t too happy with that. Guess Welling really can hold a grudge.”

There’s a few beats where the only is sound coming from Chad’s finger drumming on the edge of the desk. “Anyway. No easy way to say this. You were going to die if you stayed. One way or the other. By your own stubborn streak to prove you’re good enough, or by the King’s hands.”

Chad seems nervous, watching Jared, unsure of how he’s going to react. Truth is, Jared doesn’t really feel anything – they’re just facts, names, there’s no value attached to them right now.

Jared tries to ease the tension a bit. “I’m guessing Daddy dearest didn’t get the chance?”

Chad looks taken aback for a moment, then laughs, short, relieved. “No. Jensen didn’t let him. He’s the one that got both of you here. And me. I was the bonus.”

Jared shakes his head fondly. “I can see.”

It’s easy to fall back into the same routine.

“Tell me about him, Chad.”

Chad knows. But he doesn’t let Jared get away so easily. “Who?”

“Jensen.” He pins Chad with his gaze, tries to put in it everything he feels, everything he needs. “I’m not crazy. And that means he’s out there. I need to find him, Chad. So tell me about him. Help me remember him.”

Chad shakes his head.

 “Jared. I can tell you a lot of things about Jensen. I can tell you he’s a good man. I can tell you he gave up everything he had for you, that he loves you more than anything. I could explain to you that I’ve never seen two people better matched than you, that for all he was making moony eyes over you, you were the same, you’d run into a wall looking at him. I could tell you stories. Like when you finally got your powers, Jensen just looked at you like he knew all along – he always believed in you. Or when none of us knew where, how to begin to live here – he was the one that figured it all out.”

Chad takes a deep breath, smiles softly. “I could tell you all of these things. Does it make a difference? It’s you who needs to see. To remember. To feel.”

Jared nods, looks away.

Chad’s right. He knew. As little as he had of Jensen, it was enough. It’s him, the part that doesn’t yet fit.

Jared gets up. He’s done. It’s a lot to process, it’s too much to keep track of. Any questions he has, they have to wait. He needs to get out. Needs the sky above him, to feel less trapped.

Chad makes a motion with his hands towards the door. “Two miles any way should be safe. Gen has the protecting shields up, and nothing should get through them.” He raises an eyebrow. “But it’s you. Don’t get yourself killed? Please?”

Jared rolls his eyes. People really have the wrong idea about him. He takes a few steps, but something catches his eyes on one of the shelves.

The snow globe.

He reaches for it, takes it in his hand.

Pain.

Falling.

Chad, yelling at him, far away.

Darkness.

 

 

~

 

 

_“What do you want to be when you grow up?”_

_Jensen grins, eyes shining bright. “I want to fly.”_

_Jared nods, biting his lip. He looks down where tiny slivers of black sand filter through his fingertips, leaving a fine layer of inky dust on his tiny hand._

_“But-but you won’t leave, right?”  he stutters out. He knows. Daddy told him. Everybody leaves. Everybody who has the marks on their wrist. Daddy said the Legion is an honor, that it’s their blood, that it’s their greatest pride in being warriors._

_Jared doesn’t get it. He just knows that they leave, and they don’t come back. Or they do, but their eyes aren’t the same. They’re colder. They shine under the light of the suns and the moons all the time. They scare Jared._

_Jensen nudges him with his elbow, scoffs._

_“Not leaving anywhere without you, runt.”_

 

 

~

 

  
_Jensen doesn’t end up flying._

_Jensen collapses in front of him when they’re out playing. He comes to with Jared hovering above him._

_The first thing Jensen says is to a Jared that’s scared out of his mind is, “Stop thinking so loud. It’s annoying.”_

_Jared punches him in the shoulder just for the sake of it. Ineffectually, because by the huge grin on Jensen’s face, Jared’s not doing that good of a job of hiding his feelings, anyway._

 

 

~

 

  
_“He doesn’t like me much anymore.”_

_“Who?” Jared follows Jensen’s gaze on the other side of the small training space, where Tom’s eyes are fixed on the nearby wall, as if gauging its strength. “Oh.”_

_“He thinks it’s not fair.”_

_“That you can guess his move before he makes it?”_

_Jensen shrugs. He looks straight ahead, but Jared can feel it – he’s upset. He’s hurt_ – _Tom’s supposed to be his friend. He was, until they both got their marks. But then it turned into a competition. And Jensen won every time._

_“That, and everyone calls me special.”_

_Jared grins mischievously. “Well, you are.”_

_Jensen turns to Jared in the stands, eyes narrowed, and lips pursed into a thin line. “I’m serious.”_

_“So am I.”_

_“You don’t count.”_

_Jared puts on his best affronted look. Jensen hurries to rectify._

_“You know what I meant.”_

_“I do.” Jared drops his voice to a whisper. They still haven’t mastered this. Jensen’s getting pretty good, but Jared still has to voice some of his thoughts. “But you’re good. That’s the truth. You’re better than a lot of people here, and it’s only your first year. You can’t worry about him, or how anyone else might feel about that. This is your dream.”_

_Jensen seems to consider that for a moment. Jared takes the same time to revel in the picture, Jensen under the warm light of the suns high in the sky – the training center in the background, the blood and sweat glistening on his naked chest. It’s right. This is where Jensen belongs._

_Jensen’s lips curve into a shy smile._

_And Jared forgets. He forgets that he should be in there with him. Because Jensen’s smiling at him._

 

 

~

 

 

  
_The water is cold._

_Crimson sparkles in the moonlight, waves splintering close to the shore with a dull echo, fiery tips brushing the fine sand._

_Jared watches Chad and Jensen laugh. They think he’s crazy, doing this._

_But nothing beats the coldness that wraps him when he sinks all the way down. He feels so alive. It’s so silent. And he doesn’t have to think. He just lets himself drift in the melted sun, in the liquid copper that welcomes him, and there’s nothing._

_He doesn’t have to be._

 

 

~

 

 

  
_“Why would you want me?”_

_Jensen props himself on one elbow, leans over him. “Are you serious right now, Jared?”_

_Jared doesn’t answer. He just stares at the inky black sky, shadows playing around._

_Jensen huffs out a frustrated sound._

_“Because. Because you’re everything I know. Everything I want.”_

_Jared closes his eyes. “Jensen …”_

_“No. We’re not doing this. I won’t find any better words to say to you what I’ve shown you so many times.”_

_Jared stays silent. His world is coming crashing down, in the best way possible. He gets to have this._

_But Jensen doesn’t understand. He’s getting up._

_Jared can’t let him leave. He promised._

_He tugs on Jensen’s hand._

_Jensen turns, surprised._

_Jared just kisses him._

_It’s more than enough._

 

 

~

 

  
_First times hurt._

_Bonding isn’t any different._

_Jared expected it to be some big moment, existential, and crucial in time. It’s not. It’s dawn, and he’s sitting near Jensen, watching the horizon line._

_Jensen’s humming something, a tune that Jared will never recognize._

_The next seconds are lost. It could be an eternity. He feels like he’s being ripped apart, and then put back together, glued, piece by piece._

_He opens his eyes to stare into tired green ones._

_It’s when Jensen says I love you for the first time._

 

 

~

 

  
_“You’re not very good at this,” Jensen says as he bandages Jared’s hand._

_Jared shrugs. “I’m going to get better.” He fixes Jensen with his gaze. “You know it’s my only chance.”_

_“Jared …”_

_“He’ll see, Jensen. He’ll see that I’m not useless.”_

_Jensen sighs._

_“At least go to Steve next time? He’ll heal you better.”_

_Jared shakes his head. “If I have to fight without any powers, I have to pay the consequences, too.”_

_Jensen cups his jaw, and after a moment where green eyes meet hazel ones, a timeless second, he kisses Jared’s forehead._

_Jared smiles. “See? My way is better. I get kisses with my cuts.”_

 

 

_~_

 

  
_Jared doesn’t understand._

_His father doesn’t love him. And that would be okay. But his father hates him, more with each year that passes. His only son, a shame to his people, the weakest one._

_His father doesn’t care. Not about what Jared’s trying to prove. He doesn’t bat an eye when Jared barely gets out alive of his last fight. His determination is no match for Tom, his courage is no use against Adrianne’s hands, and his mind is powerless to resist the illusions, the tricks Mike’s capable of._

_Jared knows himself. He won’t give up._

_And his father will let him die._

 

 

_~_

 

  
_It’s snowing, the first day on Earth._

_Jared laughs when Jensen falls face first in the white fluff. He laughs hysterically, uncontrollably. Jensen lifts his head, confused, eyebrows scrunched up – he’s so adorable, and Jared just has to laugh, because this is Jensen, this is the guy who took everyone up on their offer of a farewell fight, and came out on the other side._

_This is Jensen, who left everything he loved behind._

_This is Jensen, the man he loves._

 

 

_~_

 

  
_“I like it here.”_

_Jensen laughs over the mountain of paperwork he’s reviewing. “You should. It’s not like we can go back.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_He’s wanted to say those words for a long time … and hasn’t, because he’s afraid of what the response will be – regret at everything Jensen gave up for such a poor reward. The words come in an inconsequential moment, a quiet night that is no different than others._

_Jensen lifts his head, and smiles._

_“I’m not.”_

 

 

_~_

 

  
_“Um. Jared?”_

_Jared continues to hide his face in his hands._

_“You do know you can’t actually disappear, right?”_

_Jared groans._

_Jensen laughs._

_Jared’s head snaps up. He glares at him. Jensen ignores him completely, just looks around in awe. At the Scottish Castle that their suburban home had suddenly transformed into._

_Jensen looks at Jared, and there’s so much trust, so much pride in his eyes. Jensen knows what this means. What Jared thought wouldn’t ever come. Jensen grabs his wrist, where newly formed marks are still tender to the touch._

_But what Jensen says is, “You know what? No more Downton Abbey for you.”_

_Jared laughs shakily._

 

 

_~_

 

  
_“You shape reality.” Chad stares._

_Jared nods._

_“You. Human boy. You can change reality. Everything.” Chad enunciates every word slowly, like he doesn’t quite understand what they mean._

_Jensen barks out a laugh. “Something like that.” He looks at Jared fondly. “Right now, we’re still stuck on not re-enacting every frame in Jared’s vivid imagination.”_

_“You didn’t complain about the built-in cinema in your bedroom,” Jared points out._

_Chad rolls his eyes, mutters under his breath. “Great power, great responsibility, my ass.”_

_Jared pays him no mind. It’s been fun, exploring what he can do. Testing his limits. He shrugs._

_“It helps that Jensen’s there to convince our neighbors they didn’t really see the Roman Army in our yard.”_

_Chad raises an eyebrow._

_“Too much Spartacus,” Jensen explains. “Working on that.”_

_Chad looks like he’s ready to bang his head against the nearest wall._

_Jared and Jensen share a conspiratorial look when he turns around._

 

 

_~_

 

  
_He can’t run. Not forever._

_Happiness doesn’t last._

_Those are the constants of his life._

_Jared’s escape had proven there was another way to live._

_And people had followed him and Jensen. First a trickle, then a flood. And now Earth wasn’t the humans’ anymore. Atharians craved it, saw a new future in all the green around._

_But when humans found out about their existence, they didn’t chase the Atharians out with pitchforks and torches. No, they wanted what they couldn’t have._

_And the world turned ugly._

_A decay painful to watch, impossible to stop, a decline that they_ – _he –  had caused, that their hope for another life had put in motion. Forces they can’t fight – not efficiently, because they can’t change what they are. So they live. They go on. They watch over their shoulders every day, as humanity becomes consumed with the need to be like them – and loses their humanness in the process._

_It’s the first time Jared wishes he was back where there was more than one sun in the sky._

 

_~_

 

  
_His father found them._

_It’s strange, how expected it all was. All this time, just a stay of execution, a sentence he’d been running from._

_But if the King was nothing more than a bystander, a passive participant in his son’s downfall the first time, now there’s nothing but rage and hate._

_It’s a day like any other when Jared comes back home to find his father on the front porch._

_He’d started college. Studying Astronomy._

_It seemed useless, to proceed like there was a future among it all. But he needed something. Something to think about. Something that was outside all the noise, the crushing weight of what was happening._

_Jared’s instincts warn him. He feels Jensen. He’s in the house. He’s hurt._

_Jared sees red._

_Blood._

_He doesn’t even realize he lunges at his father – going back to the time when that was the only way he could fight. His father has a way of doing that to him – returning him to when he’d felt the most powerless, the most insignificant, the weakest._

_Jared’s on the ground before he even has time to think._

_This is it, he realizes._

_He won’t live._

_Jared won’t live, because the look in his father’s eyes isn’t the one that Jared recognizes – contempt and hate for the son that had betrayed him by simply existing. No, the King hadn’t come just for Jared. Jared’s just the start._

_The King is a man who lives for power. And Earth is the perfect playing ground for him._

_Unstable, vulnerable – ripe for the picking._

_Jared did this. It’s a destiny he doesn’t believe in, carved in his own choices, in love, in his own values. It’s his doing – his selfish desire to live._

_So he knows, whatever happens, he won’t let his father do this. No matter the cost._

_But the King knows him all too well, for a man who was happy to pretend Jared didn’t exist._

_He attacks where hurts the most._

_Jensen._

_Jared hears the screams._

_He knows how much pain there has to be for Jensen to makes even the faintest sound._

_But he doesn’t feel angry. Jared’s choice isn’t fueled by hate._

_He feels calm. When he closes his eyes, when he shuts every part of himself connected to Jensen down, when he reaches into a depths of his mind, creates his own prison for the man he loves – he does it with serenity, a peace of mind that he didn’t think he would feel._

_Maybe it’s about restoring a debt to Jensen. Maybe it’s about loving him too much._

_It doesn’t really matter._

_Because he opens his eyes, and the screams have stopped._

 

_~_

 

  
_His father was right._

_He is weak. He sacrifices the world for his happy ending._

_His father is strong. There’s a reason why he’s the King. It was never going to be easy._

_Jared fights with all he has. But it’s not enough. He isn’t._

_Not against this._

_There’s only one thing left._

_He braces against the burning fire in his veins, the slow, agonizing death the cruel – familiar hands_ – _inflict on him. He lets go. His body, first._

_His mind still has strength. He believes._

_It’s all shades of green._

_Jared hangs on, rips reality at the seams, destroys in order to create, stitches pieces clumsily, hastily – he feels life draining out of him._

_Shadows play at the corners of his mind, dancing invitingly. The pressure eases, the light outside is brighter – but it doesn’t matter._

_Darkness is all that awaits him._

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

  
**PART FOUR**

 

 

Jensen paces inside his cage.

_Cage._ It’s not, really. Jared made sure of that. It’s fluid. It’s his to shape, to build, the only limits in his mind. Jared had given him a lump of clay. It could be anything Jensen imagined. He’s amazed, even in this timeless confinement, outlines drawn in thoughts, at the power within Jared.

It’s not a cage. But it feels like one.

Not for the lack of contact with the outside – but for the helplessness he feels. Powerless, weak, bound to forces outside his grasp. Jensen had fought, those first days. He’d kicked at the walls. They’d just spread further. The emptiness would just get bigger. He’d screamed his frustration. He couldn’t feel Jared. Jensen didn’t know anything. He was left only with the demons in his own mind. The shadows that danced around, all the ways it had gone wrong.

Time passed. Or it didn’t. He’d had no clue. The walls were mirrors, reflections fractured, broken fragments of his own mind.

And then he felt –

Jared.

That familiar pull at the back of his mind, torn string tentatively knotting itself back together.

 

 

~ 

 

It wasn’t Jared.

It was a shell, a devastating mirage.

It felt the same. It was so different. It hurt more than having his flesh flayed one layer at a time. Jared was lost.

Jensen was, too. He didn’t know, didn’t understand this stand-in. Because in all the ruins, the foundation was still there – things that made Jared the man he loved – his strength, his courage, his determination, his total disregard for any law and rule in existence.

But Jared doubted who Jensen was.

 

~

 

 

Staying connected was selfish.

He saw the world through this Jared’s eyes – he’d felt the agony that passed through Jared when he took in the damage, the destruction, the steady collapse.

And Jensen knew, on some level.

Jensen knew this was a creation born of Jared’s mind. In his hands. It was the essence of Athara – the rigidness, the coldness – the world they’d left behind – grafted onto Earth. Cities that should have been full of life were empty, just buildings, bare necessities. Details were gone, no graffiti on the walls, none of the messiness of everyday life, the controlled chaos of living.  His creation revealed all Jared didn’t quite understand about human life. He got it, intellectually – but it was never home for him. Home was the place he’d been cast out of.

Jared had tried. He had tried to give it back. To make it better. But it was all as wrecked, as broken as his soul.

Shadows looming around, deathless void more cruel than the natural order was.

Sand turned to ash, water to blood. The sky was grim, dull. The sky that Jared had loved so much.

 

~

 

Jensen had wanted to tell Jared so much.

To fight for him, for them, against Jared’s own mind. But he couldn’t.

Jensen couldn’t build something on unsteady ground. He had to let Jared discover himself, who he was without Jensen. He had to let Jared make his own choices. To stay, to run. To believe, to doubt.

He’d wanted to scream at Jared to run from the encounter with Tom. But he knew, it wasn’t his decision. It was who Jared was.

Jensen had longed for the touch Jared had shared with Chad. It would have been so easy. So easy to get everything back.

But it wasn’t. Jensen had taken a backseat, he’d listened, he’d watched as Jared put the pieces back together, one by one. It was hard, sometimes, hearing Jared’s thoughts. Jared couldn’t realize how much like the old Jared he would sound at times.

It was there. Buried deep, under layers that his journey was slowly peeling back – Jared wasn’t gone. And it gave Jensen hope. It made him feel more than he had in a long time.

Until Jared touched the snow globe that he himself had given Jensen.

Then it was dark again.

 

~

 

Jensen hated the silence.

The nothingness that he could only fill with the voices in his head. Maybe that’s why he was gifted with this. He knew that he loved Jared because of it – Jared was power born out of heart, of a quiet mind that took it all in. He’d always been a balance, a welcome presence in his thoughts.

Time was infinite, a broken clock that ticked silently.

Then everything dissolved.

Walls, coming down, crumbling under his eyes, dwindling to fine dust. Surroundings, fading away in time with the beats of his own heart. Liquid, trickling down, mirrors turning into windows, then breaking apart.

And Jared, on the other side.

 

~

  

Jensen couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think beyond the shaky smile spreading over features he knew so well – soft dimples carved out in Jared’s cheeks, mosaic eyes glittering in hues of cobalt and green, watching him.

They don’t run.

They don’t need to.

They’ve found each other again.

 

~

  

  
They’re spread out on the ground.

The sky is clear. The sun shines bright on a canvas painted in soft blue, and Jensen lets himself smile looking up, lets himself believe in this. Jared’s there, with him.

Jensen’s almost startled by Jared’s voice when he speaks. It’s so long since he heard it properly.

“I love you.”

It’s so simple. It’s so many words strung together in just three – because they don’t have anything else. After everything, that was what it boiled down to, what brought them back to themselves. And Jensen understands. He smiles, squeezes Jared’s hand tighter. He stays silent. Jared, as much as he isn’t the mind reader, already knows what he thinks.

“We could go back.”

It’s startling, hearing his own low rasp echoing in the silence. It’s been lonelier than he’d ever care to admit. But Jared just shakes his head.

“I want to.” A deep breath, and Jensen knows what’s coming. “But I can’t. I did this. I can’t leave. Not until there’s _something_ to leave.”

Jensen expected it – his own suggestion had been weak. He liked to think, that without the King, without Jared’s father – things would be different. But Jensen doesn’t know. And there’s a part of the guilt that is his own in all this.

Jensen gets it. It’s just a start, a new beginning to their story. The sun smiles at them, but the ground is still ash, blood is still spilling between the cracks. Chris is still fighting for his life in a rundown infirmary. There’s still the Toms of this world. But they damned the world for each other. They’ll stay to pay the consequences for that.

They’re together. That’s all they need.

 

 


End file.
